


Three Villians Hotbox In A Blanket Fort

by Brokensoul



Series: Three villains [2]
Category: Eragon - Fandom, Labyrinth, Once upon atime
Genre: Drinking, Funny, Hotboxing, Immaturity, It’ll cheer you up, Other, Ridiculous, Silly, Snark, fort, just try it, smoking pot, so goofy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-18 11:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brokensoul/pseuds/Brokensoul
Summary: Our three favorite villians build a blanket fort and get high as f**k, and discuss the nature of evil.Now finished!





	1. Snark City

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MemoryCrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryCrow/gifts).



Rumplestiltskin muttered to himself as he looked around the Great Hall, his “friends” would be here soon. They had decided to hold their regular meeting here instead of the usual bar, and he couldn’t for the immortal life of him remember why. Must’ve been drunk as seven hells to agree to let those two punters into his private domain. Bollocks! Couldn’t be helped now. The imp waved a clawed hand over the long wooden table and snacks and drinks appeared. Stale Cheetos and cheap piss beer. He wasn’t going to put out his good stuff for the likes of them. Maybe if they were miserable they would leave sooner. Well, a Dark One could but hope.

Rumple looked down at his outfit, which today consisted of skintight leather pants, pointy toed boots, and a T-shirt which read, “Get Ya Some.”

Just then the air near the huge wooden front doors wavered, as if in a heat wave, and Durza materialized. The demon peered at the imp with his strange eyes, face expressionless, and Rumple giggled and clapped his hands.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. The cat from hell, that is. “ He knew Durza hated to be reminded of his ultimate destination, so why not rub it in? The imp giggled again in malicious glee. “And you look like hell, too, by the way.”

“Thank you, you green freak.” Poised and elegant, Durza brushed a speck of nonexistent lint off of his shoulder. He wore, as always, a black and red tunic, black pants, and black boots. He looked around, down his nose and with lip curled in contempt. “I see you’ve gone all out for the occassion. Here,” a slim white hand tipped with wicked sharp black nails held out a bottle. “Fire whisky, better than whatever lowly garbage you’ve got, I’m sure.” Rumple took it, avoiding the black poison dripping from Durza’s nails. Time for that later. 

“As if you could tell,” muttered Rumple, irritably, “I’m sure demons, being from HELL, have exquisitely refined palates.” He snorted. 

Placing Durza’s offering on the table, the offended imp quickly and quietly changed the food to top tier gourmet treats and a rare brand of fire whisky. “Stuck up horde of asshats,” He griped to himself under his breath. 

Durza heard him. “I’m hardly a horde, more like a few.” Even Durza himself wasn’t sure how many demons possessed his form. 

“But you are an asshat.”

Before Durza could snark back, a breeze blew a nearby window open, a cloud of glitter blew in, and there stood Jareth, the Goblin King, looking like everything a horny teenager in the Eighties ever dreamed of. “Greetings, losers,” he drawled in a voice calculated to drop preteen panties. Jareth wore super tight trousers, high boots, and a tight T-shirt printed wth “Choking Hazard,” and an arrow pointing downward.

“That’s not what she said,” Rumple giggled snidely. “Look at the mess you’re making with your tacky glitter! I just had my maid clean in here!” Rumpelstiltskin was beyond annoyed by what he considered too dramatic of an entrance. He would definitely rectify that later, you better fucking believe it. 

“I would never have guessed,” drawled Jareth, eyeing Rumple’s outfit and comparing it to his own. The king appeared satisfied. “I brought you something.” Jareth handed the imp a half empty bottle of peach schnapps. “Sorry, I got thirsty on the way over.” 

Rumple noted grumpily that Jareth didn’t look sorry in the slightest. 

“Well, you ignorant troglodytes, shall we have a seat and a drink?” Rumple motioned to the table. “I know I need one,” the little imp muttered. He was feeling quite put out. 

The three friends seated themselves around the big table and helped themselves to food and drink. Usually more drink than food. Then only drink and no food. Then more drink. As the evening wore on, the castle darkened with the setting sun. Rumple magically lit the candles and conjured more whisky. Durza sent colored fireballs to roll along the ceiling and explode, laughing.

“Watch this,” slurred Jareth. With a languid wave of an elegant hand Jareth summoned a handful of little goblins, who capered and danced on the table top. The three laughed at their antics, occasionally tripping the goblins during their frantic and desperate dancing and then laughing uproariously. After they became bored with that Jareth yawned, “Have at em, gents.”

Rumple and Durza, giggling wickedly, took turns shooting fireballs at the goblins as if they were playing a video game. With a screech one burning goblin ran in circles on the table top, hair on fire, unable to put himself out til he fell, turning to ash. 

“Oh, stop, stop!” Rumple was laughing so hard he slid out of his chair. He ended up on the floor under the table. “His hair burning! Oh, it’s so...” The Imp was gasping with giggles. He mischievously grabbed one of Jareth’s long boot clad legs and pulled the man off his chair so that he ended up piled in the floor next to Rumple. 

Jareth gasped, “Oh, marvelous idea!” When he saw that the green man’s T-shirt now announced, “4:20! Time To Bake!”


	2. Dude...Wtf is that

Rumple fell back giggling and Jareth called out , “Durza, better get down here, it’s time to burn one, lovely.”

“Burn?” inquired Durza in his silky voice, “Interesting. That certainly sounds like an activity you need me for.” He slid gracefully under the table. “But why are we under here? “ His long crimson hair gleamed in the shadows, and he gave off a faint odor of ash.

“You’ll see,” Jareth looked smug. He had actually done this with Rumple before back at the Palace of the Labyrinth. Unfortunately, when the two of them woke up the next morning, there were passed out goblins snoring and drooling everywhere. Rumple had really ribbed him over that. Apparently the little fucks were very susceptible to pot smoke. After the imp poofed home, Jareth, in a fit of embarrassed pique, had gone around kicking sleeping goblins off stairways with an elegantly booted foot. His face reddened, remembering, and Rumple laughed nastily, knowingly. The bastard didn’t miss a trick.

“I procured this in Agrabah last month,” the imp smirked. “I believe you will find it superior to anything you have smoked before. The deal went quite well for me, the unfortunate soul I dealt with, however..” he raised an eyebrow and all three laughed unpleasantly and with genuine glee. 

With a flourish Rumple produced a fuckin huge spleef and grinned proudly, “Jareth, will you kindly prepare the area?”

“Of course, Dark One,” Jareth was pleased to show he knew something Durza did not, and with an ostentatious flick of a long fingered hand summoned several large blankets, which arranged themselves over the large hall table to completely enclose the magic users in the space. 

“Of course Dark one, “ Durza mocked in a sarcastic voice, making kissing sounds. Spitefully, and not to be outdone, Durza whispered a Word of Power and the mages were surrounded by sumptuous overstuffed pillows. Durza reclined with a smirk aimed at the Goblin King.

“Giant prick,” muttered Jareth.

“That’s what she said,” murmured Durza, and Rumple cackled maniacally. Jareth was furious, absolutely seething. Well, he would wait, he would wait, all would bow.

“Durza, if you would,” The imp held out the huge blunt toward his horde of demons friend. As Durza allowed a small flame to bloom from a black taloned fingertip, Rumple leaned forward with the doobie and lit up.

Rumple took a deep drag, the end of the joint burning bright and crackling. Passing it to Jareth with an, “ ‘Ere,” as he held in the smoke.

Jareth inhaled deeply, but coughed, and Rumple giggled. “Lightweight.”

“Douchecanoe,” Jareth took another hit, scowling, and managed to hold the smoke. 

“Come on,” Durza growled, “save some for me.” Jareth handed him the roach, his face turning blue.

“Don’t worry,” cackled the imp, “there’s plenty more. Wait, wait, I’ve got a bong.” With a flourish of his hands, the green sorcerer caused a velvet bag to float to them from beneath a blanket. Grinning, Rumple pulled out a strange object. It appeared to be a statue of a goblin like creature, short with huge ears and large hooded eyes. It had a metal bowl at its stomach and a tube protruding from its head.

“What..the fuck.. is that?” Jareth spoke slowly and his eyes were now green, blue, AND red. 

“It’s a bong, you twatwaffle. Jefferson brought it back for me from the land without magic, said it reminded him of me. He says it’s called a “Yoda,” Rumple loaded the bowl with fresh weed and handed it to Durza, who gave a thin smile. 

“Durza, would you spice that up for us, pleeeaasse,”Rumple hissed. 

Durza bared his teeth and cocked his head, his long flame red hair swinging. He held a long black nail over the Yoda bong until a drop of black poison dripped from it into the bowl. Rumple grabbed at the water pipe eagerly, closing his mouth over it and leaning towards the Shade for a light. When Durza obliged Rumple inhaled deeply, liquid gurgling in the bong as he sucked in the poisoned smoke. 

Rumple held the acrid air deep in his lungs and let out a cloud slowly. “Indeed. That’s what’s up, bitch. Good shit.” His unusually large eyes now looked sleepy. 

“My turn,” announced Jareth, copying Rumple’s moves, and then handing the pipe over to Durza.

The imp laid back among the pillows feeling mellow. Waving a languid hand unlaced his boots, and with a cackle he removed them. His long black toenails peeked out through holes they had poked in his socks, which had a pattern of dancing ogres on them.

After setting the bong down, Durza also lay back, baked, and removed his boots.

Rumple’s nose twitched in alarm as a sulfurous rotten egg smell assaulted him. Jareth yelped and pinched his narrow nose shut.

“What in the seven hells is that hideous stench?” Yelled Rumple, in a panic. “Jareth, did you step in that infernal bog again?”

“I assure you it isn’t me! “ Jareth’s aristocratic face was offended. “My hygiene is impeccable, you simpering troll.”

“Then What..” Rumple noticed Durza was looking uncomfortable, so far as a Shade could. “It’s your damn feet! They stink like a peasant’s shit caked arsehole! Cover them up, by the love all things unholy!” The imp’s huge sensitive eyes were leaking tears as he covered his sharp nose and ruined mouth from the unbearable odor.

“I cant help it,” snapped Durza, embarrassed. There was a flush on his white face. “ It’s the Hell leaking out.”

Rumple conjured some odor proof slippers and tossed them at Durza. “Put these on! Hurry!”

Durza, grumbling, did so. “That’s just the smell of evil, you should both be used to it.” 

“Evil. Eeeeevil. Eviiiiiil.” Murmured Jareth. “It doesn’t even sound like a real word if you speak it continuously. Evvvvvil. Evilllllll.” 

Rumple giggled, “He’s wasted!”

“Let’s get more stoneder.” Durza reached for the bong in slow motion. 

“Stoneder,” said the Goblin King, “ stoooonneder.”

Rumple cackled at him. Watching Durza inhale, Rumple wondered aloud, “ What is evil anyway? I mean why do some people get to decide what’s evil and what isn’t? And even what’s considered evil changes with time and circumstances.”

Durza huffed out a cloud and handed Rumple the pipe. “Yes,” He pondered, “murder is seen as heroic during battle and evil if someone is just annoying you. It’s a stupid distinction. Why not kill whenever the mood strikes you?”

“Exactly!” Rumple nodded emphatically. “Who decides these arbitrary rules?” He tried to give the bong to Jareth but Jareth just lay back, softly singing something about being reminded of the bud, the bud with the power. Rumple shrugged and took another hit.

It was quite smoky under the table, and Rumple couldn’t see Durza when he answered, a pale hand reaching through the haze to take the bong.

“Dickheads,” groused Durza, “hero dickheads. They hate everything we do.”

“And that’s precisely why we do it!” The imp cackled malignantly. “I say we be even worse from now on.”

“Hell, yes, I can do that.” Durza’s disimbodied voice answered.

“Spiteful,” added Jareth dreamily. “Deviant. Merciless. Mocking. Pitiless, perverted, and poisonous. Heartless, hedonistic and hateful.” He was silent for a second, and then declared,”Sexy,” in a satisfied voice.

Rumple held in his laughter and scooted over to where Durza could see him, motioning the Shade to be silent. A few moments passed.

“Where is everyone?” Jareth’s voice demanded petulantly. “Answer me! Did you Troll’s butthairs go and leave me here? You vile cocksucking bastards! This is not funny!”

Durza and Rumple heard a thump and a crash as the King tried to stand up, cracked his head on the bottom of the heavy table, and knocked himself out.

The Shade and the imp roared with laughter as Rumple conjured a sharpie, looked at the unconscious Jareth, and said gleefully,”I have an idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually third of the series.if you like it please leave comments and kudos. Please. I am begging you.


End file.
